


One is the Loneliest Number

by Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw



Series: AU Yeah August 2018 [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Character Death, F/F, Soulmate-Identifying Timers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 04:35:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15526164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw/pseuds/Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw
Summary: Me has seen one timer count down to zero already; she can't bear to watch it happen again.Prompt: Soulmate AUPairing: Ashildr/Clara





	One is the Loneliest Number

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by imaginary_golux

Me’s seen this before. When the Doctor and Clara came to her village, so many centuries ago. The timer had appeared on her wrist showing just over twenty-five hours. She knew what it meant; even as young as she was, many of her village had seen their clocks strike zero when their warriors had been slaughtered. It meant that one of the strangers was her soulmate—and they had barely more than a day together. Either they would leave without her, or the Mire would kill one of them. Or all of them. That was always an option. Maybe the most likely.

When she woke up the next morning, alone, her arm was bare. Dying had left her with a clean slate, apparently. Which was just as well, she realized as the years stretched on. She could not fathom the ache of seeing that row of zeroes, day after day, the one constant reminder in her amnesiac existence. Instead, she could flirt, fuck, and fight, unmarked by cares, letting the pages of her journals bear the inky weight of her memories. Really, it was almost a relief when she met the Doctor again and the countdown didn’t reappear on her wrist.

No numbers graced her arm when she married; none when she kidnapped that novice from the nunnery. None when she bore three children; none when she saved Sam Swift. None when she took over a refugee camp in the heart of London.

Then a face she had nearly forgotten smiled back into her life and she could feel the tingle as the timer on her wrist winked back into being. She didn’t dare look at her wrist—she was resigned to living forever, now, and knowing how many days her soulmate had left seemed hopelessly grim, even by her morbid standards. It was probably the wrong move to start their relationship by betraying her soulmate’s best friend, but she didn’t have much choice in the matter. Besides, she had plenty of time to earn Clara’s forgiveness, even allowing for the girl’s innate stubbornness.

But she hadn’t counted on Clara being this perversely determined, willing to risk her life for a man she barely knew, take on his death sentence in the hope of an appeal that she had no ability to grant. Instead of being able to bestow a reprieve, she would, in fact, be forced to carry out the execution herself. The quantum shade sprung from her chest, the plume of smoke resolving into a terrible raven, swooping down to pluck contentment from her grasp.

It wasn’t until much later that she thought to look at her wrist. No years, no days, no hours, no minutes… but one second. She looked at her wrist again, then down at Clara’s lifeless body. It would be millennia until she understood.

But at least they were millennia of hope.


End file.
